The Art of Subterfuge
by OtakuYUM
Summary: Elizaveta, Kiku, and Francis work together to resolve the sexual tension between Alfred and Arthur. Special prewritten co-authored story.
1. Chapter 1

**This is our first release and also on Christmas eve :)  
>This is a prewritten story. Three chapters. Released on Christmas eve, Christmas day, and the day after Christmas or on new year's depending on the response we get ^^ We're a co-authoring<strong> _(team of epicness)_.** Check our profile for more details.**

_So, thanks for reading and we'll see ya tomorrow if we don't scare ya away._

* * *

><p>Elizaveta sipped the tea Kiku served her, thinking of the time when she'd thought she was alone in her "interests".<p>

"Ah, I am happy to be in your company again, Elizaveta-san." Kiku said, sitting down at the table with his own cup of tea, looking much more eager than his calm tone implied.

She waved off his words with her hand. "Let's talk about these new doujinshi's you've just released!" She grinned excitedly.

"Ah! Hai, of course," Kiku started. "Lately I have been seeing an upraise in Gerita, but some Spamano has been released that I, personally, have been looking forward to reading. There, uhm, has also been some interest in IcelandxAppliance doujin's too. Where would you like to start?" Kiku asked politely.

Suddenly knock came at Kiku's door, interrupting him. He got up to answer it.

It was the final member of the unofficial yaoi fanclub.

"Ohonhonhon, sorry I am late mon chers~, I say it's about time we take on a project, oui?" Francis said abruptly, entering Kiku's home, but still managing to appear gracious. It's a French thing.

"What do you mean, Francis-san?" Kiku asked while Elizaveta just raised an eyebrow.

"Let's fix the sexual tensions between dear Arthur and Alfred, non?" Francis said sitting down at the table to join Elizaveta.

Kiku's cheeks pinked at Francis's blunt statement as he looked down at his feet in embarrassment. 'This...is not a bad idea...but it would have to be handled carefully', Kiku thought wishing Francis could word things a little more subtly.

Elizaveta's eyes lit up and she clapped her together excitedly. "I know just the thing!" She cried out. "They keep quiet about this, but I have it on good authority that they write private letters to each other." Elizaveta said not being able to get her words out fast enough. This is a great idea! Her head filled with possibilities, and situations, and the fact that very possibly she'd see REAL. LIFE. USUK!

Yaaaay!

"Letters? Hm, mon ami's, it seems as if this just got easier."

"This will need some planning," Kiku quietly pushed them in the right direction.

Elizabeth reached through her bag until she found a pad of lined paper and a mechanical pencil.

Kiku sighed, taking another sip from his tea.

* * *

><p>"And what is the point of this again?" Elizaveta asked, this definitely wasn't yaoi, this was being uncomfortably close and uncomfortably sweaty.<p>

"With these 3x optical zoom binoculars and this miscrophonic sound radar, we will be able to hear and see Alfred before he approaches."

"So if we know in advance when Alfred will get here, then why are we hiding behind a bush?" She countered, controlling her sass and trying to keep her sweet disposition.

"Ask Francis-san."

And she did.

"Rather safe 'zen sorry. Love is a tricky business, non?"

"And how come _you _get to wear the outfit? You're easily the most recogni-" but Elizaveta stopped mid sentence, hearing a familiar voice hum from her headphones.

"Chicka-chicka wha? Walkin' down the stairs, puh-ta-ta openin' the door, wika-wika yeah, puttin' the mail...in the mailbox."

Alfred had just slipped a handful of envelopes in the P.O. box to his apartment, then beat boxed himself upstairs.

Francis smiled, making the other two nations uncomfortable, then went to grab the letter, looking completely natural to any passerby.

His wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail with a flat blue mailman cap pulled over it. He had typical blue pants and a dark blue button shirt that could have passed for brown at a distance. His tan mail bag swung from his shoulder while he strutted over to the P.O. boxes.

He smirked and casually opened up Alfred's mail box using a small metal type object that Kiku had hesitantly given him to use.

_Bills. No._

_Application for a science grant. Ew no._

_More Bills. I thought we said no?_

_Steamy letter strewn with kisses and hearts...that Alfred probably wrote to himself. Maybe._

_Crisp white envelope addressed to The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Fuck yeah!_

"Now mon ami's, it was as easy as pie," the French mailman smirked, the letter dangling carelessly from his long fingers, as he walked back over to them.

Elizaveta was the first to lunge for it, tackling Francis with an unknown force that can only be described as 'extreme fangirling'.

"Oh, it's going to be _so _cute!" but that smile twisted itself into a frown as she scanned over the oh so, completely, American letter.

It was neatly written, but that sharply contrasted with the ...tone... of the letter.

_Hey Artie!_

_What up? You still sulking 'bout that bet you lost with me last week?Ahahaha! I told you so! I'm the HERO! Of course I wouldn't lose! But whatever._

_I still don't get why we can't just txt message each other. It's way faster y'know?_

_Ahahaha, see you at the next world meeting! You're hosting it this time right? I'll have to remember to bring my own lunch._

_See ya then!_

_-Alfred F. Jones_

"_The Hero"_

Elizaveta handed the letter over to Kiku who had been looking at her questioningly. He took the letter delicately in his hands and read it.

Francis read over Kiku's shoulder. "I was expecting something like this more or less...It is Alfred after all."

Elizaveta sighed, "Well lets have some lunch while we fix this mess of a letter."

* * *

><p>They sat in a little cafe that smelled of coffee and had little metal tables in the front of the room where people abused the free Wi-Fi and typed their memoirs while wearing berets.<p>

They sat in one of the booths in the back to have some privacy.

Francis had ordered a latte, he seemed to fit right in with this place, Elizaveta a muffin, and Kiku asked for a black coffee even though the barista looked at him like he was crazy.

Elizaveta pulled out a notebook from her bag and three mechanical pencils. She handed one to each of them, waving away their 'thank you's; Francis' being flirtatious and Kiku's being mannerly.

"Okay, then!" Elizaveta started, taking charge. "Let's fix this letter up! What're everyone's ideas?"

"We'll have to make it plausible." Kiku said quietly, reminding them to not to go too far.

"That's no fun! But I suppose we have too. " Francis said, smiling, obviously enjoying this. He gave a flirty smile across the table at Kiku, making him shift uncomfortably.

Elizaveta smiled behind her hand. It wasn't funny when Francis flirted with you personally, but it was certainly amusing watching him make others _coughcough__**Kiku**__coughcough _squirm.

"So the beginning needs to go." These words were digested, then agreed upon silently as they scanned over it.

_Hey Artie!_

_What up? You still sulking 'bout that bet you lost with me last week?Ahahaha! I told you so! I'm the HERO! Of course I wouldn't lose! But whatever._

"We could start with 'Hello Arthur'?" Kiku suggested.

"Yes, that's realistic."

"And 'How are you'?" Kiku said, a smile forming timidly on his lips as he relaxed in their company.

Elizaveta just nibbled on her muffin, nodding.

"And 'I'm so sorry about the bet, please don't take it to heart'?"

"Z'at is where the line is drawn, would Amerique say something like that?" Francis questioned, sultry blue eyes peering over the latte cup.

"Well then what do you suggest?" Elizaveta huffed.

" Make it 'I won the bet fairly, but a hero would never brag about something like that. I knew I was going to win anyways.' See, it is nicer, but still Alfred, non?"

Nobody could disagree, and they sat and thought for a while.

An amiable consensus came over them, and Elizaveta erased the sloppy rude words and replaced them with the faux sloppy endearing words.

_Hello Arthur,_

_How are you? I won the bet fairly, but a HERO would never brag about something like that. I knew I was going to win anyways._

"It does seem very polite for America, but reasonable nonetheless." Kiku said, staring into the murky darkness of his black coffee.

"What are we going to do about the whole texting thing?" Elizaveta inwardly groaned.

It was so Alfred, how could they tone it down?

_I still don't get why we can't just txt message each other. It's way faster y'know?_

"Simple. Change the last sentence to 'But this is cool and stuff' incorrect grammar is always a bonus."

"And just leave the first sentence?" Hungary sounded appalled.

"Well, what do you suggest mon cheri?"

"I don't know, maybe something like 'I'm kind of glad we don't text'."

The dubious looks screamed rejected.

"Well then." Green eyes narrowed into slits.

_I still don't get why we can't just txt message each other. It's way faster y'know?_

Became

_I still don't get why we can't just txt message each other. But this is cool and stuff._

"Last part, non?"

_Ahahaha, see you at the next world meeting! You're hosting it this time right? I'll have to remember to bring my own lunch._

"Oh boy. Well, the first sentence is fine, right?"

Nods.

"But the second and third could be modified.

"Maybe something like 'You're hosting the conference this time, maybe we could go out for lunch?' Just an idea," Elizabeth metaphorically put that on the table.

"I think it seems appropriate-"

She changed it, eagerly rubbing away Alfred's platonic words.

"But how can we get them to meet for lunch?"

Elizabeth smiled, looking over the letter:

_Hello Arthur,_

_How are you? I won the bet fairly, but a HERO would never brag about something like that. I knew I was going to win anyways._

_I still don't get why we can't just txt message each other. But this is cool and stuff._

_Ahahaha, see you at the next world meeting! You're hosting the conference this time, maybe we could go out for lunch?_

_See ya then!_

_-Alfred F. Jones_

"_The Hero"_

"Oh, we'll manage."

* * *

><p>Several days later in cloudy England, one Arthur Kirkland sat at his kitchen table holding a letter.<p>

He had a small pile of mail already opened up. Mostly bills, notices, that sort of thing. But what he held now was the modified letter from Alfred.

Arthur toyed around with it, fiddling with the corners of the envelope.

Alfred's letter's were always short and somewhat neat. And rude. He knew he couldn't expect any fancy poetry,( not that he wanted any. God, of course not) or any generally polite inquires about the weather or how he was doing. Nothing of the sort.

Arthur sighed and opened the letter. And read it. And read it again.

Something was...off.

It was strangely...rather nice. Still obnoxious, but still. It was Alfred of course.

Arthur felt a smile pull at his lips as he reread the last part.

His favorite part.

"_Maybe we could go out for lunch?"_

He bit his lip and tapped his fingers against the table anxiously. He was obviously up to something. Alfred hates my food, so why...? The English nation sighed.

He didn't have the heart to decline even if Alfred was up to something. Partly because it was _Alfred that _asked and partly because this had struck his pride. No ever volunteered to eat his food. Well not his food specifically, but _English _food.

From _England._

People out right refused or found somewhere else to be if it was _his _food being offered, but he'd gotten used to it by now. Not that it didn't still bloody sting.

Get the picture? It's so depressing to have people avoid your food. Barely anyone could stand it.

So therefore, Arthur immediately took out a fresh piece of stationary and his ink pen, and set to writing a response.


	2. Chapter 2

"Here! Here it is!" Elizaveta cried out excitedly.

She wore a female mailman outfit. A brown cap was pushed down unevenly over her long brown hair. A calf length blue skirt coupled with a blue buttoned up jacket and Francis' mailbag made up the rest of her outfit.

She rushed over to Kiku and Francis holding the crisp English letter in her hands. 'Ooh, I can't wait to see what Arthur thought of Alfred's letter!' Elizabeth thought happily.

She slid a finger nail over the top and opened it up quickly, prying the folded paper out in one motion.

_Dear Alfred,_

_Well, first off, that letter was quite unexpected._

_In a good way of course._

_I'm doing rather well, thank you for asking._  
><em>Since the meeting will be in my country, I'd be pleased to have you for lunch.<em>

_That is, if this wasn't all just a joke._

_You would get your fucking chubby arse to a gym before you touched my bloody food._

_Nice try._

_With love,_

_Arthur Kirkland~_

_The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland_

"That imbecile!" Elizaveta cried, ripping her hat off of her head and throwing it on the ground.

Still not satisfied, she started jumping on it while letting a string of pretty words flow from her mouth.

"This isn't fucking yaoi, this is two damn bastards dancing around each other like some fucking DDR remake. Fuck this shit." Came out of her mouth with a single breath.

Then, calm and collected, she picked up her hat, dusted it off, and fit it onto her head.

"Time to fix England's letter."

Francis was the first to react.

"Mon cher, was that the appropriate way to act?"

"Yes." Hands akimbo, eyes narrowed.

"Onto fixing the letter, hai," Kiku, the life saver.

"I don't even know where to start," Elizaveta sighed, glancing back down at the words with visible disdain.

"These two...fools..."

Francis smirked, "These two _lovesick _fools."

And they all found a little comfort in that.

* * *

><p>Alfred kicked his apartment door closed behind him and dumped his mail on the floor by his couch. He then collapsed on his couch laying on his stomach and was very tempted to just fall asleep. This was way too early for him! When was the last time he'd been up at 9 am?<p>

He covered a yawn with his hand and leaned over the couch to start sorting his letters out into piles on the floor.

_Bill...Bill...Junk mail...This is way too early fo- OH! LETTER FROM ARTHUR! _Alfred interrupted his own thoughts.

He ripped it open with his fingers and pulled the letter out. It was on that annoyingly crisp and neat paper that was so familiar. He resisted the urge to crumple the perfect, taunting paper. _LAWL. I wonder what he's got to say to me this time. _Alfred thought, looking forward to Arthur being offended and insisting on things his way. He made Arthur irritated on purpose a lot of the time.

A lot of people think of that as a kind of affection. Alfred always insisted that he just did it cause it's fun. It's just so fun to see Arthur get all worked up and red faced!

He unfolded the letter and read it. Unaware that this was the modified _coughtamperedwithcough _version of Arthur's letter to his own modified _coughtamperedcough _letter.

_Dear Alfred,_

_I'm going to ignore that because that is what a __gentleman__ would do._

_How are you fairing?_

_Yes, well I will be hosting it this time and it'd be lovely to eat with you even if you do bring your own lunch. I look forward to it._

_With love,_

_Arthur Kirkland~_

_The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland_

This had been a doozy of a letter for yaoi fanclub to fix. They not only had to match it up to Alfred's first letter so that it'd make sense to him, but also make the letter politer and more endearing and ALSO have it still look like Arthur himself had written it.

For it to look reasonably like Arthurs they decided to keep a tad bit of the rudeness in, but make the rest polite. Elizaveta and Francis had snickered when they changed everything EXCEPT for the signature:

_'With love,_

_Arthur Kirkland~_

_The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland'_

Every time the three of them thought of it they couldn't stop smiling at the irony. Now all they could do was wait to see how Alfred would react and respond based off that.

Who knew.

Maybe they'd only have to nudge them once more in the right general direction and they'd soon be holding hands to all the world meetings. That'd be a score for the club.

Alfred stared at the letter.

He didn't know why he didn't call him, why he didn't just pick up the phone and dial the number he knew by heart.

Heart.

His felt small and too large.

"...He isn't pissed off."

Alfred blinked a couple times, making his eyes feel drier than they already were.

"He wants to eat lunch with me, huh..."

Alfred walked around in a circle for a bit, there was a strange feeling in his chest. His heart felt tight and sore and it felt stretched and compressed and _weird_.

"I'm going to reply now." Alfred went to his bedroom and pulled out a fresh sheet of notebook paper and a sharpened pencil and sat down.

This was the first time in a long time Alfred crafted a letter so carefully.

_Dear England_

Nah. He erased and started over.

_Dear Arthur,_

_I'm well. In fact, I'm awesome, never been better. How are you? I hope that you're good._

_That was a strange letter I you wrote me, you were so out of character. But I don't mind, expect the unexpected right? That's a heroes duty._

_Really, I'd like to have lunch with you, and I'm serious about that. I'll bring my own if it'll make ya feel better, but I wouldn't mind going out. _  
><em>As in out to eat.<em>

_Love,_

_-Alfred F. Jones_

"_The Hero"_

Alfred studied it for a second, _too gushy? too desperate? _but decided it was perfectly awesome.

He found an envelope, addressed it, walked outside and put it in the PO box.

Then he took it out and walked back inside.

This happened ten more times before the letter to Arthur was left in there for good.

* * *

><p>Arthur fidgeted and struggled not to just start pacing from anxiety. His hands were restless and he pulled at his tie.<p>

_Stupid wanker! Do you know how long it's been since we've spent any time alone together? I have no bloody idea what we're going to talk about._

Arthur tried to reason himself out of his nerves. _It's not like- like anything's different from this meeting and all the others! Hell..._

Arthur swallowed, thinking that for once it might not have been such a good idea to show up early if all he was going to do was fret.

He bit his lip.

God.

What he'd give to be able to see what in the hell Alfred had been thinking when he'd written that letter back to him.

Two! Two letters from Alfred that weren't completely obnoxious or insulting or even as annoying as usual! But nice, pleasant,... friendly. Arthur blushed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Get a hold of yourself, now.

He sighed and managed to appear composed as the first nations showed up, walking into the building's hallway that was just outside the meeting room. It was Hungary and Japan. Strange. I didn't know they were friends. Arthur thought as he greeted them.

Japan nodded and gave a polite smile. Hungary grinned at him and looked cheerful considering she was going into a meeting that wouldn't break until lunch.

"Nice to see you England." Elizaveta greeted him as she walked past.

"Ah, likewise." Arthur said back, giving a nod back to Japan.

He hovered out in the hall a little longer, but when Spain and the Italy's arrived he decided he might as well sit in the meeting room.

Half way through one LONG meeting later:

America stood up and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his back. Next to him, China cringed and gave him a look, which he promptly didn't notice.

He hadn't had a chance to talk to England yet! When he'd come he'd thought that he would be able to get a good chat in before the meeting started. But England had rushed away when he approached and determinedly avoided eye contact. Like what the hell, man? The Hero had been specifically going to talk to _you._

Well, whatev cause England couldn't avoid him now. America was so totally like :D as he walked out of the meeting room.

And waiting outside was England.

His arms were crossed and he was leaning on one leg. Still staring at the ground, but he flicked his eyes up once to see America grin and come toward him, and then looked back down with his face starting to heat up.

"So c'mon dude!" Alfred said animatedly. "Let's get going, kay?" He grabbed the English nation's arm and dragged him out of the building.

As he stumbled down the steps Arthur choked out, " Wait! You don't even know where w-we're going, g-git!"

"Well, it's not going to be in that stuffy old buildin'," Alfred paused for a moment, swallowing hard, "er, right?"

Arthur took this as a perfect opportunity to pull himself out of the American's grip.

"No, we are not going to be eating in a business centre, but I do appreciate the iota of trust you have in my ability to pick a place to eat."

"I dunno what you mean, but it sounds funny!" Alfred let out a laugh, then turned to face the other man.

"So, where are we going then? Have you picked a place?"

"Of course I have, I'm not an irresponsible wanker like you. It's just down the street- if you'd be so kind as to follow me." Arthur walked slow, realizing that he _kinda sorta maybe _missed being pulled along by an obnoxious American. His skin still tingled from where it was touched by the tanned and calloused fingers, and that provided some comfort.

The street was slightly busy, lunch rush traffic was beginning to pick up so as they made their way to the restaurant, honks and abrupt stops filled in the silence.

"Hey Artie?"

"Hm?"

"Are we there yet?" It took Arthur a moment to register whether this was a real question or not. _Obviously _they weren't there. They had just passed a toy store, Arthur's taste buds weren't so non-existent that a meal of Polly Pockets would be acceptable.

So in the end, he decided Alfred had just been kidding and he kept his mouth shut.

"Hey Artie~?"

"Don't call me-!" Deep breaths. "What is it Alfred?"

"Are we there yet?"

_Again, with the annoying fake questions, _Arthur thought with a huff.

Sadly, Arthur was overshooting America's maturity and common sense.

"Hey Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I think we're here."

Arthur stopped, mostly expecting Alfred to be wrong and then he'd have to explain to the git that you can't make up things like that. But as his eyes darted around the surroundings, he noticed a small tearoom.

"Oh, well, you are actually quite right, Alfred. I don't know where my mind was at that moment."

"Fancy looking.."

"Don't be intimidated, you look rather sharp in that suit."

Arthur pushed open the door with confidence, smiling as he stepped inside the comforting familiarity of the room.

"Bahah! Dude, this is like a time warp!" Alfred almost yelled in disbelief. Women sat and chatted politely and quiet relaxing music played in the background. They even had folded lacy napkins and everything! Holy shit!

"Alfred! Watch your fucking language," Arthur hissed, gaining a few stares from elder ladies he had disrupted. He calmed their suspicion with a friendly flash of teeth.

"Whoops, my bad. So, what do they serve at this place?"

"Well, tea of course."

"What _food_, Artie? Think like an American for once."

"There are scones with jam and clotted cream. I think you can order a sandwich on rye or a smoked salmon salad, if you are so hungry."

"S-s-salad?" For once America wasn't talking about food with a loud, sure voice. It was quiet, scared.

"They don't bite. Now let's go sit down and wait for our tea lady."

Arthur smiled as Alfred sat across from him at a small booth like table.

"They have the best tea here," He whispered to America as the unsure man picked up the menu carefully.

"Oh gee, sounds great Artie." He said, flipping the menu open.

He looked it over and almost lol'd when he saw the fancy print and funny names. But then he realized that this was _food._

And you take food seriously, you guys.

He looked more closely for anything that sounded remotely edible.

"...I thought that you'd end up bringing your own lunch even after saying-" The English nation coughed into his hand. "Well what you said in out letter exchanges."

"Huh?" Alfred looked up a little confused. "Um. Yeah, I was but you said that..." Alfred paused and blushed, remembering reading the letter again. "You wanted to have lunch with me."

He'd reread that letter a whole lot of times leading up to the meeting. He'd even brought it with him. Well, to his hotel. It was in his bag along with his emergency fast food money and scary movies he was hoping he could convince Arthur to watch with him.

"What? You're the one that said you wanted to have lunch-!" Here Arthur lowered his voice when he noticed he was getting loud. " That you wanted to have lunch with _me_."

"Dude. What-"

Their waiter walked up, and he stopped talking. "Excuse me. Are you ready to order?" He asked, ever the image of an impeccable British waiter.

"Er, yes. Thank you. I'll have earl grey tea and a brie and blueberry chutney sandwich."

"White or wholemeal?"

"Wholemeal bread."

"And you, sir?" The waiter asked, turning to the American.

Alfred was seriously amused by his British accent. It was like _really _British.

"Uh, just water and a cheddar and... apple sandwich." Was he reading that right? Well cheddar's good. Apple's are good. He'd give it a try.

He felt British just by saying it. He almost said _sammitch _just to mess with the waiter, but he really wanted to get back to his conversation with Arthur.

"Very good, sirs." The waiter left with their order.

Arthur turned back to Alfred flushing. He glowered at him across the table.

"_You _said y-you wanted lunch." He cursed himself for stuttering but continued on.

"You said so. In your letter."

"No."

Arthur stared. 'No'?

"You did, dude."

"I did no such thing..."

They stared at each other, but were startled when their eyes met and they both looked away flushing.

"I have the letter to prove it..." Alfred said, wondering if Arthur would admit it if he told him that.

Arthur looked back at him. He had a letter that said that. From him?

"Not with me. It's back in my hotel room." Afred said.

"I have the letter you sent me, too..." Arthur said.

They both stared at each other. Both thinking that the other clearly wasn't lying. What was going on?

A cute waitress came by with their water and tea. They sent her polite if slightly frazzled smiles.

"Well..." Arthur took a sip from his tea. "Let's just have out lunch and then we can look at these letters..."

"Yeah, I guess that'd be cool," Alfred sighed, wondering if maybe Arthur was just being all awkward about love or something- wait, love? No, he didn't mean that, he meant, uhm... awkward about friendship. Yes, that is so totally it.

Arthur entertained himself by finishing his tea, using it as an excuse to not be the one to come up with some form of conversation.

"So, uh, Artie-"

"Don't call me that."

"How'd you find this place? Isn't it for old people?"

"I'll have you know that plenty young folks venture to tearooms these days. Just because they might not in _America _doesn't mean anything about the rest of the world and the civilized youth."

"Are apples and cheese good together?"

Arthur gawked, that really was an unexpected question. Maybe Alfred didn't feel like arguing. That was fine with him.

"I do find them tasty with each other, if you don't like it I'll trade you my sandwich."

"What didja get?"

"Brie and blueberry chutney on wholemeal."

"Sick, dude!"

The waitress was back, saving Arthur from commenting. She was balancing two plates on one arm, and a smile on her face.

"Chutney for you, and cheddar for _you_," she murmured, setting the food down in front of the men.

"Holy shit this actually looks amazing!"

"Alfred!" More hisses from England.

"Heh, sorry."

Now conversation wasn't necessary, both were content to have their mouths full of the delicious food and gave up on attempting formalities.

To Alfred's surprise, it had a sweet and salty taste, all gooey in the middle because the cheese was melted.

"You seem to be really enjoying that," Arthur mused as he took a break from nomming.

"Ghfiusn wreiaub, ajgbai! Jbfawh, ngh~"

"I see," Arthur didn't try for conversation again. Instead he watched Alfred eat, slightly drawn in by the way his mouth moved and how his pink tongue occasionally darted out to catch the crumbs that gathered around his lips, licking them.

'Oh shit,' England thought to himself as his pants grew a bit tighter.

America eating is not arousing.

America eating is not arousing.

America eating is painfully arousing.

"Hey Art, what's wrong with your face?"

"Uh, nothing, I'll just pay then we can head back to the meeting.. okay?" He avoided eye contact.

"Sounds good," A sloppy slurp of water, "After that I'll show you the letter you sent me."

'Maybe Alfred was just confusing me cussing him out as an invitation to a meal. Yes, that could be it.'

While Arthur was off in Land of Lost Thoughts, Alfred was laying down a fifty and smiling at the waitress.

"Wasn't so bad, ya know?"

She took it as a compliment, and let herself blush at the charming American boy's effort. Which made him grin.

Arthur frowned. He just said he'd pay. But it wouldn't do to start an argument right in front of the poor waitress, so he held on to his retort for later.

They stood up and left.

Once they were out, Arthur turned to Alfred and said," Hey! I'd just said I was going to pay!" He glowered.

Alfred's eyes flicked over to look at him before he said, "Nope."

"That is exac-"

"Nope."

"Exactl-!"

"Nope!"

Arthur trembled and his face was turning red. He muttered obscenities as they walked down the street, heading back to the meeting. They turned a corner.

The sidewalk was a bit narrow on this certain street. Old.

They had to walk really close together if they wanted to walk side by side. And Arthur stubbornly refused to let himself fall back so that Alfred would be in front. And Alfred seemed oblivious.

Arthur's heart a gave a little flip when he suddenly felt Alfred's hand brush against his.

And then his chest tightened when the back of their hands brushed against each other again. And it kept happening.

Even when they arrived on the same street that the world meeting building was on, which had nice largely paved sidewalks, Alfred's hand still brushed against his as they walked.

They entered the building in silence and didn't say a thing to each other until the meeting was over.

**Well this is chapter two! Like I said in the first chapter's author's note, depending on the response we get we'll either post the last chapter on the 26th or on New Year's so please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

All through the meeting though, Alfred was looking at Arthur, his thoughts were preoccupied as usual and for some reason he couldn't keep his gaze on him for long. He kept looking away after a while. Which was like totally weird. If he wanted to stare at Artie he should be able to stare!

Er, that came out kinda wrong. Just uh, ignore that.

England announced the meeting was over, muttering something under his breath about no progress having been made again.

America bounded up to him before most of the other nations had even left. England saw France smirk at this. France blew England a kiss as he left, which made England's face twist.

America rocked back and forth on his feet. "So..."

England gathered up his papers and put them in his briefcase.

He straightened and made forced eye contact. "Lead the way" He said sarcastically and raising his brows, making a sweeping hand gesture.

He regretted his words a little, because America did lead the way. He grabbed England's hand and pulled him all the way to his hotel. He walked just fast enough that England had to struggle to keep up and he didn't have a spare moment to yank his hand out of the American's grasp.

They reached the hotel. It had glass doors and maybe six or seven floors. The reception was clean and modern.

Alfred had to check in with the receptionist before he could go up to his room. He cheerfully leaned against the counter and retrieved his key before pulling Arthur yet again toward the elevators.

Arthur suddenly flushed as he heard the receptionist giggle and he realized what this looked like. Alfred's fingers were interlaced with his. When had that happened? His hands were big. They wrapped around his and they were really warm. Arthur was getting uncomfortable with the waiting. He wanted to yank his hand free so that he maybe he wouldn't be so distracted anymore. What with the quiet he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

The elevator dinged and arrived.

Relieved, Arthur stepped inside and managed to slip his hand away. He wiped his hand on his trousers. Unfortunately, Alfred noticed.

I mean, it wasn't like it hurt his feelings. Why should he care what Arthur thought? Maybe holding a hero's hand made him all sweaty. Yes, that could be it. And as they walked towards his hotel room, that's what he hoped.

"Hey, Artie, you mad?" Alfred asked as he fiddled with the key card to his room.

"No, why would I be?" A blank stare was given from green eyes.

"I dunno, you just seemed pissed, 'at's all." Finally, yes, the door was opened. Into the elegantly disheveled room they went.

Alfred offered Arthur a drink. He politely declined and then reminded him that he was only here to see the letter.

"Oh yeah, I'll get it, one sec," The taller blond rummaged through a half open suitcase, and moments later pulled out folded slips of paper.

"Here ya go," Alfred handed it to Arthur, and watched as the Briton's face turned white.

Arthur hadn't written these. Sure, some phrases were his own, but the majority of what he read was foreign.

God, that meant Alfred's letters to him had been forged, too.

What was he could he say? Because, whatever it was, would crush both him and the nervous blond git in front of him.

"I didn't write these."

Cue the awkward silence.

"Hah, waddya mean?" Alfred, to his credit, was still smiling.

"I mean someone has been sending us both messages, claiming to be from each other." Arthur watched as the others face fell.

"So, you didn't really want to eat with me?"

"That's not what I said," Arthur took a shot at evasiveness, but remembered that Alfred was dense and explained further, "Lunch. It was enjoyable." He looked away for a second before forcing his eyes steady and resisted the urge to wipe the blush that was forming on his face.

Blue eyes sparkled, ears perked up a little, and Arthur took a mental picture of it because he hadn't seen the strong nation look like that in a long time. Those deep, deep blue eyes.

"Can we do it again sometime?"

Arthur didn't think, and maybe that was a warning sign that he was losing himself far too quickly, "If I can't think of anything better to do."

Suddenly though, Alfred was far too close, and he could smell lunch and mints on his breath and it tickled his noise, but he didn't mind. In a way, it was endearing and it only grew more so as the younger country leaned in, and with trembling fingers, he placed Arthur's hands in his own. The breaths he was taking deepened and his heart sped up even as he didn't think of what these signs meant.

"I like you, Arthur."Alfred breathed and then his lips were coming closer, and now they were on Arthur's, and it was a little wet, but extremely warm, inexperience showed, yet somehow it was attractive, so when the blue eyed git tried to pulled away, Arthur yanked him back down and captured his mouth once more, having to push himself up on his toes to reach.

And when they parted, panting slightly, and for the most part satisfied, Arthur asked, "Who do you think wrote the letters?"

"I dunno, probably Francis or somethin'." Alfred, for one, didn't care. Sure, it was sneaky, but Arthur's hand was in his and it felt really, really awesome. Didn't some old guy say 'all's well that ends well'? This wasn't an ending, but it was pretty freakin' _well._

"I bet it was Elizaveta," Arthur growled after a moment's thought.

"Dude, chill, it's cool."

"America-,' Disappointed blue eyes. "Alfred, that person looked through your mail box, read your letters, and forged a document from you. That is illegal. Thrice over."

"Haha! You said thrice!"

Obviously Arthur was going to have to fix the matter of whodunnit himself.

As soon as the elevator door closed leaving him alone, Arthur heaved out a sigh and leaned his forehead against the cool metal. It was nice to have a little time by himself so he wouldn't have to feel quite so flustered. He had a feeling he wasn't going to forget that feeling anytime soon. Speaking of feelings.

He raised a hand to his lips. He took his head off of the elevator door and shifted his weight to his other leg. He could still feel it on his lips. Alfred. His cheeks burned.

The elevator dinged as it stopped for another person to get on and Arthur jerked, startled. As a young man got on he gave him a nod and pressed himself against one side of the back wall. They both got off when it reached the ground floor.

Avoiding looking at the receptionist he went outside and hailed a cab. It had just gotten dark and Arthur reasoned it wasn't too late to place at least _one _questioning phone call, even if Alfred didn't care who'd went through their personal letters he wanted to know. It made him shudder thinking of someone reading his private words. Maybe he would have to start texting instead, like Alfred had wanted.

After the short ride to his house, Arthur walked into his parlour after hanging up his coat on the rack by the door. He collapsed on the couch and grabbed the phone on the side table.

"Bonjour?"

"What did you do, frog?"

The voice dropped the pleasantness, "Oh, it's you."

"Answer my question, I've got more pressing matters to attend to," Arthur said, even though it wasn't true.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," He said in a way that made it seem he knew very well what the other was talking about.

"I don't have the time for this," Arthur was getting tired so he cussed a goodbye and dialed another number.

"Moshi moshi."

"Japan, I have a question I need you to answer honestly."

"Igirisu-san?" Guilt laced the Asian nation's voice.

"Obviously, now, did you tamper with Alfred and my letters?"

Arthur didn't hear anything for a while, and the next sound he heard was the dial-tone signifying the call had ended, and to please hang up and if he so wishes, to also try again.

The only other person he could think to call was not a number he knew, in fact he had to make a few awkward calls before finally getting it. This of course, only added to his irritability and by the time the female nation answered the phone Arthur was raging.

"Did you fuck up my mail?"

"Arthur?"

"No, I'm the pizza man you never ordered from! Obviously I'm Arthur you bloody idiot!"

A pause, and he wondered if his words had been too mean, but decided, no, they were perfectly appropriate for this situation.

"Wrong number," And Elizaveta dashed off the line.

It wasn't like a gentleman to give up, but he was tired, and angry, and very confused about life because whenever he blinked he saw blue eyes and so his blinks were lasting longer than they should.

"I, I guess it doesn't matter. All's well that ends well." He tried to convince himself of this, but was still battling Shakespeare as he fell asleep.

Alfred on the other hand, had an easy sleep. Smiles and hamburgers and aliens and most importantly _Arthur_, all plagued his dream.

First he was just sitting there, with this really amazing burger in his hand, chillin' with his friend Tony. And suddenly, Arthur was there too. And he wasn't frowning or yelling at Alfred's choice of food, but he was watching intently behind long lashes and every look he gave the younger country sent a shock to the pit of his stomach. It settled heavier than the food.

"_Al_fred," When England spoke it was like a moan, and it was most certainly a 'jizz in the pants' moment.

When he woke up, slightly embarrassed and extremely sticky, he wondered if Arthur would ever moan like that for him in real life. Delighted, he knew he could ask.

The next world meeting was in Germany. America was sitting three people away from England, but had somehow managed to rub his foot against the other's leg occasionally. Things have been official for about, two months now, and though all the lovely dovey stuff was awesome, Alfred really wanted to be making out with his boyfriend right now.

So, he devised a plan, and it was simple.

It wasn't devious like the one that got them together, nor was it full of lies or anything that untruthful.

He took out a piece of paper and wrote:

**i ≤3 u**

**leave 4 da bathrm in 5 mins**

He proofread it, smiled, and then crumpled it up and threw it at Arthur's head.

Everyone pretended not to notice because that's what they'd been doing when they felt Alfred's leg weasel over, and that is what they had been doing when Arthur blushed and stuttered when asked talking about how close he was to his Allies.

**Please rephrase in literate terms.**

England folded it carefully and leaned back to pass it to America with a smirk.

America rephrased it.

**Dearest Arthur,**

**I have come to know I love you with all my being.**

**I will give you my heart and my soul and anything you so desire.**

**All I ask is that you take a bathroom break in, now, 3 minutes, because I'd really like to kiss you senseless.**

Arthur smiled at this, and then announced his sudden need to relieve himself and when America left to go to the restroom two minutes later, everyone pretended not to notice again.

"Hey, Artie."

"Not with that bloody name again," He sighed, but didn't really mind it much.

And Alfred didn't have anything else to say, so he leaned forward and pressed his mouth softly against the Briton's. It was slow at first, savoring the comfortable feel of it all. The nice warmness, the cozy silence, the relaxing touch of hands holding on to another. But then it grew more rushed. No one ignited it, it was just a happening, really. And soon Arthur was pressed against a stall and Alfred's hands were roaming over the tailored suit and nothing was being undone, and nothing was being taken off, they just wanted to _touch _and _feel _and be _close_.

"God,_Al_fred," Arthur moaned once the younger man moved down to kiss the wide expanse of ivory skin that was his neck.

"Hehe, you moan just like in my dreams_, Arthur_." He put special emphasize on his boyfriends name, whispering it.

"I don't know," a hitched breath, "if I should be pleased or disturbed." He put both his hands in Alfred's hair, taking a soft hold.

A wet kiss was placed on swollen pink lips. Alfred did his best to swallow up the taste of his partner as much as he could. And when it was over, Arthur commented, "I think I'll go with the former."

Alfred leaned down to reclaim Arthur's mouth once more.

After a while, they decided the meeting had ended. Arthur pulled his boyfriend out of the restroom while patting down his hair with the other hand. Expecting an empty hallway he was surprised to see France, Japan, and Hungary.

They were watching him expectantly, and he felt as if he should be dancing or something.

But then it hit him, and while Alfred left to ask a question on the nearest McDonald's to the lady who worked here, Arthur walked towards them.

"I'd like to say," His voice was harsh and the Yaoi Fan Club waited for a string of pretty words, some of the members on the verge of bolting. "Thanks. I _think_ I'm happy.. And this is all you get from me!"

He dashed off to pull the foolish boy back towards their hotel room. They reached it eventually, and he wondered what life would have been like if the other countries hadn't intervened.

"Hey Artie, your face looks cute when you're thinkin'."

No, he had lied. Arthur _knew _he was happy.

_Thanks for all the favorites/alerts._

_Reviews= love ^^_


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